electrolux137
Well-known member
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Lining up for a post-shopping snack at Costco. Or, as Daddy would put it, "Waddling up to the hog trough."
I had a slice of clammy pizza and part of a "hot" [not] turkey and provolone sandwich, one or the other or which (or both, probably) gave me gas and heartburn and made me feel sick to my stomach. The turkey sandwich bread, a ciabatta roll slathered with some sort of grease, was as tough and chewy as a yoga mat -- and undoubtedly contained that stuff in it.
The anticipation far exceeded the actuality.
I had asked the food service technician to make my sandwich without mayonnaise or onions. She gave me a look of exasperated astonishment and said, "Those sandwiches are made ahead of time" [in, like 1965, from their taste and texture]. "We can't customize them."
Of course, let's face it ... the entire Costco experience is an exercise in utter gluttony. I always feel sort of strange and out of sorts after going there, kind of like a shopping hangover. It's retail overload in its most obscene form.
But we go there -- because they have good dog food [well, I guess it's good -- the pups sure do seem to think so]. And you can get a pallet-load of toilet paper for about 10 bucks. And the free samples are fun. Well, except for the folks who crowd their way to the front of the free food display and then stand there stuffing and gobbling like they haven't eaten in weeks, until the hostess finally [and not always discreetly] shoos them away. I heard one of them tell a chubby child, "You've already had enough, sonny. Now run along."
Then there are the self-absorbed folks who find nothing wrong with parking their carts &/or strollers in the middle of an aisle and start yapping or tapping on their phones. Who then become annoyed and shoot you a withering look when you presume to bother them with "Excuse me, I need to get by."
I won't mention the legions of screaming, screeching toddlers. My ears are still ringing.
Hours later, my stomach is still gurgling. I fear the worst when my Costco Snack reaches its final destination. I guess I'll be needing that pallet of toilet paper.

.
Lining up for a post-shopping snack at Costco. Or, as Daddy would put it, "Waddling up to the hog trough."
I had a slice of clammy pizza and part of a "hot" [not] turkey and provolone sandwich, one or the other or which (or both, probably) gave me gas and heartburn and made me feel sick to my stomach. The turkey sandwich bread, a ciabatta roll slathered with some sort of grease, was as tough and chewy as a yoga mat -- and undoubtedly contained that stuff in it.
The anticipation far exceeded the actuality.
I had asked the food service technician to make my sandwich without mayonnaise or onions. She gave me a look of exasperated astonishment and said, "Those sandwiches are made ahead of time" [in, like 1965, from their taste and texture]. "We can't customize them."
Of course, let's face it ... the entire Costco experience is an exercise in utter gluttony. I always feel sort of strange and out of sorts after going there, kind of like a shopping hangover. It's retail overload in its most obscene form.
But we go there -- because they have good dog food [well, I guess it's good -- the pups sure do seem to think so]. And you can get a pallet-load of toilet paper for about 10 bucks. And the free samples are fun. Well, except for the folks who crowd their way to the front of the free food display and then stand there stuffing and gobbling like they haven't eaten in weeks, until the hostess finally [and not always discreetly] shoos them away. I heard one of them tell a chubby child, "You've already had enough, sonny. Now run along."
Then there are the self-absorbed folks who find nothing wrong with parking their carts &/or strollers in the middle of an aisle and start yapping or tapping on their phones. Who then become annoyed and shoot you a withering look when you presume to bother them with "Excuse me, I need to get by."
I won't mention the legions of screaming, screeching toddlers. My ears are still ringing.
Hours later, my stomach is still gurgling. I fear the worst when my Costco Snack reaches its final destination. I guess I'll be needing that pallet of toilet paper.
